


Before the Cherry Blossoms Fall

by memorydd



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Student!Akashi, a fic for akakuro week that spun out of control, please also be aware of character death(s), teacher!kuroko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3764272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorydd/pseuds/memorydd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that you aren't defined by your losses. Tetsuya wants to argue. Akashi challenges his teacher because there is so much more to being alive even as the world is slipping from your fingertips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Cherry Blossoms Fall

**Author's Note:**

> My intention was to finish and post this as a long one-shot for akakuro week, but due to certain circumstances (aka: i blame school) I have failed. So this got split into three parts instead, which actually might be better considering it’s current length that is still increasing. Also born from my odd love of seeing an older Kuroko with a younger Akashi.

Tetsuya wakes up to a misty window—his reflection and scenery hidden behind the mist covered window.

He remembers dreaming of summer days, blue skies, clear rivers, warmth and bright laughter, but as he takes a hand to wipe away the fog in front of him, he sees hills and fields cover in snow instead.

The bus announces the next station and he reaches up to press the stop button, feeling glad that he had just woken up seconds before the announcement. If he hadn’t then he can count on himself walking backwards under the evening snow fall. It is just his luck that snow started unusually early this year.

Tetsuya prepares the fare and grabs his luggage—a backpack and a medium size bag—before carefully making his way to the front. The bus is mostly empty aside from him and two other passengers who are a middle age woman and an elderly man.

With the clanking of coins in the box and the driver thanking him, he is hit by a rush of cold wind and nearly trips over himself when his feet sinks into the snow. The snow isn’t deep, but his feet still feels dampness and he wishes that he had prepared himself better.

Tired, soaked and hungry with aching shoulders may not be the best way to greet your new employer, but he guesses that it can’t be helped now. He has never done well in making particularly good or stunning first impressions (though to defend himself, he doesn’t particularly make bad ones either). Plain and unimpressive is what people usually tell him.

The thoughts of a warm room and bed is what drags his stiff limbs forward, but not one second does he regret coming all the way out here from the bustling city of Tokyo. And that thought too is what keeps him moving forward.

It is fifteen minutes later that Tetsuya finds himself in front of a fancy gate. The house behind it is big though not as massive as he thought for such a wealthy family because he has seen the main house of the Akashi family in Tokyo and it is at least three times as big. Then again, this is merely a family vacation home with only one family member residing in it aside from the workers.

He rings the door bell and a few seconds later, a female voice responds, questioning his name.

“Good evening, this is Kuroko Tetsuya,” he says. “I am the new teacher who is supposed to arrive here today.”

“Oh, is that right? Please wait a moment.”

There’s a click as the gate unlocks.

“Please come in.”

Tetsuya does and when he gets to the front door, it opens up to reveal a woman in her early thirties, who gives him a welcoming smile and beckons him in. She introduces herself as Izawa Tomomi, the maid of the house, and says that she’ll lead him to his room.

Tetsuya follows her, though he cannot help his eyes from wandering around the house. It is a very Western style house even to the point of having a fireplace (something that Tetsuya hardly ever sees in real life), and looks slightly out of place in this countryside where he had passed two shrines and a temple on the way here.

The sound of a violin breaks through his thoughts and he tilts his head up to where it is coming from.

“It is young master,” Izawa answers as she continues to talk towards the stairs. “It’s a beautiful sound, isn’t it?”

“…Yes, it is,” is what Tetsuya says. But it is not the truth, or rather, it is not the full truth.

The sound is indeed elegant and beautiful, but there’s a sorrowful edge to each note that makes him see a grey world—a silent one that this music is trying to desperately reach.

There is deafening rain fall, the ringing of the phone, an empty room, an endless road leading nowhere, a sea of black and black—  
  
“This is your room.”

Tetsuya jolts and blinks.

His room is the last one on the right on the second floor. It is a spacious room, or at least more spacious than he is used to, and is fully furnished with all the basic furniture (a closet, a desk, a chair, a large bookshelf, and a queen sized bed). He places his things on the floor before following Izawa out and to the other side of the hallway where the music is coming from.

She knocks and the song abruptly ends.

“Come in.” The voice that responds is young, but sounds as if the owner has been through a journey where he has already seen all that life has to offer.

Tetsuya doesn’t understand why that is so.

The door opens and he sees the back of a young man, hands gently laying down the violin into its case.

“Young master, I have brought your new teacher, Kuroko Tetsuya-san.”  

“Thank you, Izawa-san. You may leave.”

The authority in that voice takes him by surprise.

The door closes and nothing but silence follows for one second, two seconds, three seconds—  
  
“I am Kuroko Tetsuya, your new teacher starting from today. It is a pleasure to meet you,” Tetsuya starts with a bow.

“Likewise. I’m Akashi Seijuurou,” his new student says, turning around to finally face him.

Sharp scarlet eyes meet his, and it is when they finally see each other face to face that Tetsuya feels something in him stir; there’s something that’s unlocking and something that is being put into placed, but he doesn’t know what.  

His mind travels back to the music.

Akashi smiles at him.

“Please take care of me from now on.”

......

….

…

..

.  


Tetsuya wonders why he is even hired. Surely this boy is more than capable of learning by himself as long as he has the resources.

Akashi is not only intelligent and insightful (Tetsuya has never taught Japanese classic literature without having to drop any hints or barely having to offer any input during discussions before), but also quick-witted and clever (being able to match his own bluntness with remarks that leaves him gaping).

There is however, an invisible line of respect separating teacher and student, and as much as Tetsuya feels as if Akashi is challenging that line, it never snaps. Perhaps Akashi isn’t challenging his status as a teacher on purpose at all, but it’s only due to the natural authoritative vibe that rolls off of this boy. It’s Tetsuya’s third day on the job, but it takes him less than that to know that sixteen year old Akashi Seijuurou is made for something great—a leader who can lead his people to success. And it is because of that that he feels great pity on the world for losing such potential because if only this boy isn’t ill and confined, he could possibly mold this world into something greater.

If only the world is kinder.

If only the world is kind at all.

“May we take a break before moving onto European history?” Akashi asks as they finished discussing the last point on comparing Natsume Soseki’s _Bocchan_ to Mark Twain’s _Huckleberry_ _Finn_.

Tetsuya nods. “Yes, that is a good idea.” He closes both novels and places them to the side.

When he looks up again, Akashi is at the window, staring outside. The snow has stopped falling and the weather reports say that they won’t be seeing any for at least the next three days.  
  
“It would be good if spring will come soon,” Akashi says, his voice tinted with longing. “I miss the outside world.”

“I’m sure the outside world misses Akashi-kun too.” Tetsuya believes his own words to be true.

“You think so?” Akashi’s tone isn’t sad or longing anymore, but slightly amused.

“Yes.”

Akashi doesn’t respond to that, but Tetsuya thinks that he can feel a smile through the silence. It is far from being an uncomfortable one afterall.

“The temperature out here is more extreme than what you are used to in Tokyo,” Tetsuya’s student speaks up again. “Winters are freezing cold and the humidity in the summer can be more than a little uncomfortable.” A pause. “It’s like the weather here always wants to be the winner during its respective seasons.”

“The weather can’t hold competitions.” It isn’t until those words leave Tetsuya’s mouth that he realizes how silly he must have sounded.

Akashi’s gaze is fixed on him for a moment. Then those scarlet eyes close and a chuckle escapes those lips. “Of course they can’t.”

Akashi’s chuckle, Tetsuya thinks, is a beautiful sound (light and fleeting—something between the light breeze on a summer day and the flickering fireplace during winter).

“Is something wrong, Sensei?”

Tetsuya almost jolts. “No, nothing’s wrong,” he says, reaching for the European history textbook. “Let’s begin the next lesson, shall we?”

“Yes, let’s,” Akashi says, walking back to their table with a small smile in place.

Tetsuya thinks that Akashi’s smile is beautiful too. Yet there is something off with his smile; it’s thin and sad and barely there, much like a ghost. It’s completely unlike the smile that he’s used to: bright and wide, cheeky and a little bit cocky—

_“Tetsu!”_

“Kuroko-sensei?”

This time, Tetsuya does jolt.

Red orbs study him closely. “Are you alright?”

He swallows the tightness in his throat. “I’m alright. Sorry,” he says, looking down at the textbook, trying to find the right page.

He can feel eyes fixed on him.

…..

….

…

..

.

 

_“Oi Tetsu, I expect dinner ready for me when I get back, ‘kay?”_

…..

….

…

..

.

 

“Your dinner is going to get cold if you eat it that slowly.”

Tetsuya realizes that even though it’s been half an hour, he hasn’t even make it through half of his grilled salmon yet.

“I’m not that hungry tonight,” he says, moving onto miso soup instead. More like his mind has been occupied with a few things lately—things that he would rather forget, yet at the same time never wants to.

The long silence in the room resumes, but it is only for a moment before Akashi breaks it again.

“You are sitting where my mother used to sit.”

The comment takes Tetsuya off guard and causes him to put his soup down so that he can look at his student.

He sees nostalgia swimming in those eyes and traced into that faded smile. And there’s another emotion written on that face. It seems like…

“I remember her gentle smile across from here. She used to say that the person sitting in that seat is the happiest person.”

…worry.

Tetsuya suddenly feels just a bit warmer and he manages his own smile. “I see.” At the very least he had to respect the feelings of the original owner of this seat.

The silent settles in again, but it is a more comfortable one than before. Tetsuya takes bigger bites out of his dinner.

The clock ticks in the background, Tetsuya ponders over a thought, and then speaks.

“Akashi-kun,” he starts, but hesitates. “There’s something that I wanted to ask for a while now.”

Akashi looks at him curiously. “What is it?”

“That song that I heard you playing on my first day…was it for your mother?”

Akashi doesn’t answer straight away and for a moment Tetsuya has the horrible sinking feeling that he might have stepped on a landmine. Being insensitive has never been one of his characteristics (in fact he is the exact opposite with observation skills beyond that of a normal person), but he wonders if someone else’s obliviousness ended up rubbing off on him after all.

He is about to take back his question, when Akashi finally answers, “Yes, Kuroko-sensei is quite right. I wrote that song for her.”

There’s no anger, no resentment, no hurt nor sadness in the sound of his voice—just a flat statement as if answering an objective question—and it is one of those rare times that Tetsuya cannot read the emotions churning beneath.

“Who did you lose?”

“Eh?” He doesn’t quite like the odd sound that pops out of his mouth.

Akashi’s eyes are staring straight into his, the intensity from them makes Tetsuya feel like he’s shrinking. But then the sharpness eventually dulls.

“They say that it takes the sadness of one’s lost to notice that of another.”

Tetsuya is stunned into silence. His mouth is parted, but no words could find their way out; the name of the person is stuck in his throat, piled down by regrets, crushed potential and unreached happiness.

Akashi’s shoulders slumps ever so slightly and it’s a sign that he’s pulling back. “Please disregard what I said. It was rather rude of me. My apologies.” He stands up from the table. “Please excuse me to attend to a private matter. Dessert will be served soon. Please feel free to eat my serving if it suits your taste.”

Tetsuya finds that he can’t say anything in response or even nod.

It isn’t until Akashi’s figure is out of sight and the sound of his footsteps fades that Tetsuya feels the silence of the room weighing down on him. The warmth of the room turns to cold and the spaciousness becomes suffocating. The table is empty and the food is cold, the snow outside is heavy rain, the beeping of the timer in the kitchen is the shrilling sound of the phone and no, this isn’t what he wants, never what he wanted—

Something clicks and he looks at the chair where Akashi was sitting in less than five minutes ago.

…Of course.

This isn’t what Akashi wants either.

 

And that’s what why he is here.

…..

….

…

..

.

And so it really all begins here: with the exchange of book titles, endless melodies on the violin, childhood stories thought to be lost in the fog of time, soft laughter at the most irrelevant things, and the clinking of warm teacups as the snow continues to fall.

Tetsuya makes sure to try his best in initiating conversation even if it isn’t his usual self to do so, but trying turns into a natural flow as they got closer. He never expects companionship such as this one with a student, but he finds that he and Akashi are more similar than he thinks at first. There are a hundred little details in their lives, a hundred little dots that connect.

 

 (But Tetsuya cannot see the full picture yet, because there are many more dots left where the line hasn’t reached).

…..

….

…

..

.

 

“Happy birthday Akashi-kun.”

The surprise, even though subtle, is evident on Akashi’s face as he takes the book from Tetsuya’s hands. Tetsuya finds that he likes seeing the surprise grow to be more visible as hands smaller than his own flip through to the book before halting at the inner cover.

“Kuroko-sensei went to her book signing event?”

“Akashi-kun did mention how much he loves her works.”

The look that Akashi directs at him says that he is missing the point.

“Her book signing event is in Osaka.”

“Yes, that is why I went to Osaka,” he simply says. Two hours by bus into the city center, another twenty minutes to Osaka Station, and then another fifteen to the place of the event. It was a long journey back and forth, but it is worth it.

“To think that Kuroko-sensei would go so far only for this…”

“You think that it’s a bad thing?”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

Akashi closes the book and smiles. “Thank you.”

It is the most genuine and brightest smile Tetsuya has seen from this boy. It’s not blinding like the sun, but rather like the stars at night subtly lighting up the dark sky.

And it makes his heart beat in a rhythm all too familiar to him.

 …..

….

…

..

.

Tetsuya is afraid.

He keeps dreaming about it, his fears manifesting in eyes the color of midnight blue that stare back at him in his sleep almost every night. It’s always just the two of them surrounded by nothing but darkness.

When this first happened, Tetsuya’s instant reaction was to run towards him, but he could never reach him. After a while of this dream repeating itself, he eventually tried to run the opposite direction. But he could not escape either because whenever he turned back, cold, dark eyes would always be there staring back at him.

Now Tetsuya just sits there, unmoving.

“What are you trying to do, Tetsu?” that deep voice will ask.

“…I don’t know. What do you want me to do?” Tetsuya will answer back.

“Move past here.”

 

 

“I don’t know how…”

…..

….

…

..

.


End file.
